By Blood, By Honor
by Firespin98
Summary: Two brothers. Two opposite careers with criminal-like details. One, after spending time in Arkham, is visiting the other, the mayor of Gotham. Forces of nature collide, and this time, blood doesn't matter. Only honor among criminals. One-Shot.


The epitome of confidence and charm stood in his lavish bedroom, straightening the hundred-dollar tie of his five-hundred dollar suit in front of his one thousand-dollar mirror. His butler stood not far off behind, head held high.

"Will there be anymore, sir?"

"No, Mr. Worthington. Everything is fine. But, would you see if the house is in order for my family?" the epitome asked, turning to the older gentleman. He nodded and exited the room. The privileged man turned back to the mirror.

This man's name was Jack Pardionaire. Pronounced pard-eeon-air. His residence, this ridiculously luxurious mansion, was located on the upper east side of Gotham City, where once you entered the rich suburbia, the city's trouble melted away. How could he afford all of this? Growing up in a wealthy family helped, but what really made it was the fact that he was the mayor of Gotham City. Being all of the criminal activity, extra funding was produced to the city by the government.

Tomorrow was going to be remembered for a very long time. He was going to permit the execution of the infamous Gotham rogues. He knew there were going to be some protests, but it was the only way. They were never going to get better. He remembered the reason why he never wrote this down, never built it in with the rest of the speech- because it was too risky. People who worked in his house were against their execution, and almost anybody could find the draft of his speech. He found this out when he mused aloud with Mr. Worthington one day. He was in the dining hall, one of the maids producing his meal. She didn't like the idea. Neither did the chef and several other workers. So this was going to be unexpected by everyone when he announces it at his speech today. Almost all of Gotham would be there, and if they weren't, most of them would see it on the television. It was going to be publicly broadcasted.

Today was also the day that his family visited. He had arranged for all of them to stay at his house, lord knows it was large enough. But he only needed two extra bedrooms. His only immediate family, the ones visiting, was his parents and his little brother. Marissa and James Pardionaire, mother and father of the famous Jack Pardionaire and not-so-famous Antony Pardionaire. They would be on stage with him when he gave his speech. He could imagine them looking on- proud. He was fully aware of his parents yearn for the villains' death.

He was also genuinely anxious to see his younger brother after so many years. Last time the family reunited, he was absent. So it wasn't really a reuniting. He had been admitted for an evaluation, which spanned over three weeks. At Arkham Asylum. His parents told him of his struggles. He had temporarily been addicted to cocaine, but that addiction was quickly overridden by his adrenaline addiction, and his brief spurs of insanity. He had been involved with a bank robbery and shot a woman. It was only by pure luck that money had gotten him off. The woman didn't die. Charges weren't pressed because of how famous his family was. The evaluation detected nothing. Afterwards, Antony ran away after stealing his father's gun. He was missing for a month, and he was eventually found, buried deep into the recesses of crime. He had been reevaluated and diagnosed with OCD, Schizotypal Disorder- not to be mistaken with Schizophrenia-, Bipolar Disorder, and Paranoid Personality Disorder. He stayed in Arkham Asylum for five months before being released. This was going to be the first time he had seen Antony after all of those events.

He swallowed hard and exited the room. His destination was the foyer, to await his family's arrival. The hallway he was walking in had one wall made entirely of windows that revealed the rolling field of his lawn, the shining lake of the aristocrats' suburb, and then the city. It was another cloudy night. No stars could be seen. No wishes to be made. Normal places would be quiet…most of the residents asleep. But no. Not in his city. People worked 24/7, criminals ran amok and rogues were planning. Those rogues were condemned. All of those freaks were. By him. After they were gone, the Batman would keep the peace. GCPD would clean up the petty criminals. The city would be renewed.

And nobody knew, but him. Not even the Batman.

"Mr. Pardionaire, your family has arrived." Mr. Worthington said, suddenly appearing from behind a corner. Jack stepped back in surprise, eyes widening.

"Are they at the door?" he asked hastily, rushing down the grand staircase, and towards the foyer. Mr. Worthington struggled to keep up, but remain walking.

"They are in the foyer." he said breathlessly as they made the turn that introduced them into the massive entrance. There was his family. They looked as though they stepped out of Prohibition.

His mother was wearing a simple modest pink dress with a large fur coat over it, and simple heels, with several long, dangly pearl necklaces. Her brown hair was stiff in a luscious coiffure of waves. His father was in a suit. The blazer was open, revealing a matching colored vest. And a pocket watch, good lord, a pocket watch. They held hands lovingly, and looked at the house skeptically. Suitcases were scattered about them on the ground, awaiting to be picked up by the people who worked here. Then there was the additional fellow.

Antony. His blazer, fedora, and suit pants were brown, with pinstripes. It covered his dark, spiky brown hair. He had paled very much so since the last time Jack had seen him. He looked leaner, but more muscular. He had a five o'clock shadow that gave him a rugged look. He kept his distance from his parents, gazing at every nook and cranny of the house, emotionlessly. Unlike his parents, who had seven suitcases combined, he had only two. One large duffel bag hanging over his shoulder, and holding a smaller bag. He looked like he felt out of place. He was the first to see Jack.

"J-Jack?" he breathed, eyes wide. Marissa and James looked at their youngest son, and followed his gaze to Jack.

"Oh! Jack, honey, its so good to see you again!" his mother squealed, running to embrace him in a hug. He returned it half-heartedly, still looking at Antony. Jack averted his gaze later, unnerved by the wide, emotionless eyes. He let his mother kiss him on both cheeks, and then faced his father.

"How you doing Jack, my boy?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, I'm great. And you? How was your trip over here? How was the flight? Nevermind that, we can discuss this over dinner." he grinned before turning to Mr. Worthington. "Make sure the table is set, please."

Mr. Worthington nodded and tarried out of sight. Jack then went to one of the male-maids. (Does anybody know what they are called?) With a simple nod of his head, he went to the suitcases. A snap of his fingers, and another man came to help him with the heavy load. And then another.

"S-Sir," one of the men wheezed under the weight of two of the suitcases, "can I take your bags?" he asked Antony.

"No." was all he said. Jack heard this, and was momentarily awed by the change in his voice. It was deeper, yes, but…it still gave off the innocent impression he had when he was a little boy. From the last time he saw him, which must have been…thirteen? No, twelve years ago. Antony was twenty four now. When Jack last saw him, Antony was only twelve. He felt a pang of guilt for neglecting his troubled younger brother. He watched as the workers hauled the suitcases up the grand staircase and rounded the hall with the window-wall. Antony followed.

"Um…lets get you situated at the dining hall first, shall we? Spaghetti is for dinner, with breadsticks, I believe." Jack said nervously, ushering his parents into the dining room.

This lavish area was, of course, designated for eating. It could seat up to 22- 10 seats on both sides and 1 at both ends. The table was chocolate brown with a gold line accessorizing it elegantly. The seats carried the same pattern, but with plush red seats and back-rests. The same marble floor and gold-pillar thing carried from the halls to the room, and over the ceiling-high windows were red draperies. The parents were pleased by his son's taste. Then his mother paled as she looked around.

"Where is Antony?" she asked in a low voice.

"Antony? Oh, no. Antony!" his father called out.

"No worries, I'm sure. He was helping carry the suitcases. Why don't you two have a seat, I'll go get him." Jack said, charming his parents out of their worried state. They took seats at the end of the table, side by side. He gave them another smile before retreating to find his brother.

He didn't have to look far. As soon as he exited the dining room, and moved down a hallway, he saw the grand staircase. Antony was walking down, one hand on the rail, and one hand in his pocket. He had a thoughtful, yet dark expression on his face. It was virtually unreadable. Jack was sure he didn't make a sound, but Antony's head snapped up in his direction, eyes locking. Antony didn't say a word, but slipped past him and to the dining room. Jack was frozen in place, not comprehending the cold shoulder he had received from his brother.

Moments later, he snapped out of it. Antony was just in shock from seeing his brother for the first time in so long. Yeah, that was it. Or no, maybe it was because he's been through so much. He didn't become mute, did he? No, his parents would've told him that.

He was just about to go back into the dining room when one of the workers who carried suitcases came down.

"You." Jack called, snapping his fingers. He came over. "What did my brother do when he was with you?" he asked quietly.

"Umm…he watched us locate Mr. and Mrs. Pardionaire's room and took the one at the end of the hallway, in front of your room, sir. He didn't say a word, just put his bags in and left."

"Okay…" He went back into the dining room.

Antony was sitting at the end, in front of his mother. It looked as though his parents were ignoring him. He kept his head down, and sat so stiff, it looked as though he was frozen. His fedora was off and on the seat beside him. The head seat was open for him. Jack plastered on a smile and strutted to the head chair. As soon as he sat down, maids brought out the dinner. A small portion of spaghetti was placed in front of all four of them, and a basket of steaming breadsticks was placed in the center.

"How was the trip? Tell me everything." Jack smiled at his parents. He didn't really care about his parent's trip, but asking about it would appease his mother.

"Well, we took a private jet, of course. We ran into A LOT of snow, it was unbelievable. We had to land so the windows could be cleared, and the engines thawed. While at the stop, we decided for lunch, considering, well; Airline food. Yuck. It turns out, the only restaurant until the next city was a country place, highly informal." his mother said distastefully.

"What did you do?" he replied, feigning interest.

"We drove to the next city, of course. And there was this very nice restaurant, let me tell you. The service there, though, UGH! Our orders took half an hour to get to our table! Can you believe that? Honestly, if they were going to serve food, they might as well serve it properly." she spat, taking a small bite of her Italian dish.

"Care for a breadstick, mom?"

"Oh, no sweetie. Thank you, though! This pasta is enough carbohydrates for me."

Honestly, he worried about his mother's diet sometimes. There was a large possibility that she wasn't even going to eat half of her meal, and it was a small portion. He looked over to his father. He was halfway, still eating, and had two breadsticks on his plate. He looked towards Antony. His fork was on his plate, next to a pile of bread crumbs…not even crumbs. It looked as though he had just pinched off little bits of bread at a time and didn't eat any. He then set his napkin down upon the pile of bread and his fork. He stood, and all eyes landed on him.

"If you'll excuse me, I will be retiring for the night." he said quietly. He didn't even wait for a reaction, but pushed in his chair and walked across the large room to the exit. Jack couldn't just let him go to bed like that, no…

"Wait." he said. Antony turned slowly.

Jack had accidentally blurted that out. Now everyone was looking at him, expectantly. Jack suddenly felt nervous. He didn't know why, he was used to being the center of attention. He was in school, he was in social events, he was in the family (unless Antony was getting into trouble), and he was in the job. But right now, under the intense, frightening stare of his younger brother, he felt nervous. He became flustered, and used his willpower to keep from loosening the collar of his suit to let in some air. He suddenly found his movement, and wordlessly excused himself from the table. He gave a nod to Antony, a motion that told him to continue on. He did so.

By the time they were both out of the room, they were walking side-by-side. Jack knew it was improper to simply leave his parents alone in the dining room to themselves, close to the time of bed, when they didn't know where their bedroom was. Meh. A maid could show them if they ran into one.

When they reached the upstairs, Antony turned to go down the hallway that held the bedrooms, but Jack stopped him by holding his arm. Antony quickly gripped Jack's wrist and twisted it- hard. Jack relinquished his grasp on Antony after a small yelp of pain. He shot his younger brother an incredulous look.

"Sorry. It comes naturally." was all he said. It was all he could say. Jack sighed at his brother's answer and massaged the damaged wrist.

"C'mon. Let's go to my study. This way, Tony." Jack said, genuinely smiling again. Antony cringed at the use of his nickname, and followed his brother.

"Don't call me that."

"Oh, why not? That's what I called you when we were little kids…" Jack frowned, hiding his emotional hurt by the younger's order.

"Tony isn't my name. My name is Antony, and I request you call me by that." he said sadly.

They reached double-doors, a wood the same shade as the dining room table with gold handles. There was also a gold plate on the wall beside it, one with a dent at the bottom allowing you to pull it up. If you did so, it would reveal what looked like a calculator, without symbols. Only numbers and that small screen. He needed to enter the password, one only he and Mr. Worthington knew, in order to gain access into the study. He didn't know how he would go about doing this, because he was worried about Antony seeing the password. He didn't know if Antony was clean now, he could use some of the information in there to his criminal advantage. He didn't want to think like that, but it was possible. So, if he purposely hid the password, Antony would know that he wasn't trusted. If he was clean, than that would hurt. A lot. The ghosts of his past would have effected his future. If he didn't shield the password, and he was still in league with scum, he could get very valuable information from there. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

"I don't care what the password is. I know you are scared of me seeing it, it's alright. If it makes you feel any better, I'll turn around. I'm used to this, it's what is expected now from me." he said, empathetically. He turned away.

Jack put in the code without another word, and the door unlocked. He flipped the golden panel back down and opened the door. He ushered Antony inside. When in, he automatically took a seat in one of the big, cushy vinyl chairs. Like a recliner without the ability to recline or stick out a foot-rest. The matching ottoman was not used. Jack closed the door, but not completely. In case his parents decided to drop in. He took the seat across from Antony's, and took the remote to the electric fireplace. He turned it on, and sighed.

"I've missed you." Jack said after a pregnant silence.

"Yeah." was all he said.

"…Yeah? Is that all you have to say? Yeah? Antony, talk to me. Please, I haven't seen you since you were 12." Jack muttered.

"I know. We could've seen each other when I was 16, or 22. You could've made a trip down, but you didn't. Its understandable, you're a busy man. Likewise, in my month of freedom I could've visited you. I could've." he said emotionlessly.

"That month wasn't freedom, it was you screwing up your life. And then you got back on track. You call it freedom because nobody you were with cared enough to stop you from doing horrible things."

A moment of silence passed. This time, it was Jack staring Antony down.

"It's a shame you don't understand." Antony said with heavy judgment.

"Don't you dare tell me I don't understand. I understand you became addicted to drugs, and God forbid the RUSH. An adrenaline junkie- is that why you robbed that bank? Shot an innocent woman? Is that why you did those horrible acts, for the rush?" he accused venomously.

"You're asking me, and you're insinuating. You're insinuating wrong…well, almost wrong. I robbed the bank because the person who got me the crack told me to. And before you say how moronic it was, I obeyed because he was threatening me and my family. If I did that, then he would leave me and everyone I knew alone. That's why I robbed that bank. I shot the woman because if I didn't, he would. And if he did, he would kill her." he lied.

He did it because that was the dealer's offer. Antony took it and killed him- he didn't want to be a waste of space to go as far as addiction, so he took any means necessary to quit; including killing the guy who supplied it.

"…Really?"

"Really." Antony snapped.

"Well, then…what about the month when you ran away? Some other criminals said-"

"People. Criminals are people, too. I used to be one of those 'criminals' but I'm a person. I prefer you call them as such."

"Fine, then. Some other people said you murdered people. Many people."

"And you believe them?" Antony asked incredulously.

"Well, who could I believe? Besides, it was the investigators who questioned them. Did you kill people?"

"It's not that simple, Jack."

"Fine. Start from the beginning. After you got dad's gun, what did you do? I want to know everything. Where did you go, who did you meet. What was it like?" Jack asked, leaning forward.

Antony sighed and shook his head. He wanted this atmosphere of accusation and condemnation to vanish, be replaced with something more light-hearted. He felt as though he had been through enough, and now his own brother, who he hadn't seen in 12 years, was indicting him. No pleasantries were passed, straight to the point of the cold lies he told. The ones he told everyone, except his other brothers. His other brothers…the ones he met in Arkham. They weren't related by blood, no, but they had the understanding, the sympathy, empathy. None of them were really insane. Not Thomas, Erik, Ques, Victor, none of them.

And especially not him.

"You want to know how it all felt, me escaping? It was…awesome. It wasn't the adrenaline, but the feeling of responsibility. Remember when kids called us sheltered in school? Do you think those kids could ever do what I did? I didn't want to be the kid who didn't know anything about the real world. I could finally be my own hero, the person I wanted to be, so I did. The crime though…that was somehow inevitable."

"So that was just a rebellious phase?" Jack spat.

"How would you react if I said no? How would you react if I said yes? So you see, I'm not going to answer that."

"You always did that as a kid," Jack smiled fondly, "dissect all of the options of a question, and if you couldn't find a good response, you wouldn't answer. You got into so much trouble with teachers because of that. But, I digress. Tell me what happened."

"Well…when I left, I took a bus to, well, here. Since I wasn't considered missing at the time, I bought a ticket and took a plane to Miami. I took coach class, can you believe it? I knew I had to save money. Saving money is pretty cool, involves so much mathematical equations, and logic. When I got to Miami, my first priority was to find a temporary place to stay. I guess I kind of dipped into my account, because I stayed at a 5-star hotel. In my defense, some rugged people do that.

"One night I heard gun shots and shouts in the room by mine. I took a gun, and low and behold, there was a guy who was shot in the leg. I fix him up and it turns out he works in a drug cartel, and he was making a delivery. The guy turned out to be FBI. Even though he was barely fixed, he ran after the FBI agent. I followed, what can I say, I was curious. We caught up with the federal agent, surprisingly. He shot at Mikey, the cartel guy, again, and got him in his good arm. So…I shot him. I didn't mean to kill him, but he fell off the roof. The guy was impressed and recruited me.

"I got into a drug cartel as a guard. I didn't do any of the drugs, don't worry. I had gotten very high up in the organization. I became the body guard for the leader, I was in his OFFICE. I was there with every transaction, listening, watching. I watched him kill people, I watched him have people dragged out of the room for tortuous interrogation. I felt on top of the world, on top of the crime-ridden world." Antony said ecstatically.

"But you weren't. The leader of the organization was, relatively speaking."

"No, because he had to worry about assassination."

"Ah…and what was the time span of this? When were you found?"

"Jack…" Antony said, his small smile turning into a big grin, "that all took place in just one week."

"One week! Oh lord, go one. Tell me more."

"Okay, so, one day this guy comes in; he's a real powerful one. Manages several branches, and he's planning on taking over this group. So he shoots Marcus, the leader of our cartel, but he doesn't die right then. I killed Juan, the one who shot him. I also killed his body guards, and I went to Marcus's side. You won't believe what he told me. It was the first time he had ever talked to me directly. Jack…he made me the new boss." Antony choked out excitedly.

Jack was horrified, but the look in his eyes told Antony to continue.

"I took over Juan's business, too, with the help of the people I was friends with when working under Marcus. By the end of that week, I was ruling every form of illegal activity down there, and in several islands. I had so much power…and Jack; I still do. I have people who replaced me while I'm gone. I never told them I wasn't coming back, but they wouldn't question it."

"Antony! You could wipe out every criminal in Miami with that power! You could go to the CIA, FBI, or any branch of the government and take care of that! Do you know how much redemption that could give you? How just that action would be?"

"Yeah," Antony said quietly. He was disappointed in his brother, he thought he would surely understand the good side of it, not the legal side. Not the side that ruined him. "Anyways, I was at the top. Week number two; I was invited to a party at Spain. Because of my position, obviously, and Juan had done some very good favors when he was alive. The good part of his reputation was passed onto me. So, of course, I flew over there. Along my flight, I became part of the Mile High Club. I was given a room in the party host's palace. Yes; PALACE. It was amazing, it was a mix of oriental and European, with a hint of Italian, you know? Anyways, the party. I bought a nice suit, and found a date. Her name was Maria Ortega. You would've liked her, I would like to think. She was very kind, very down-to-earth." he said, each word losing it's volume. There was a tone of depression overwhelming the room.

"What happened to her?" Jack asked casually.

He simply asked. Antony felt a sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he pleaded with his psyche to stop it. An onslaught of murderous, vengeful ideas crossed him, and he fought with himself to stop them. A little part of him, a growing part that was only stopped by medication was telling Antony that Jack didn't care about Maria. That Jack didn't care at all, didn't care about one damn thing. How dare he be so simple when asking of her fate? Could he not see, not hear how much of an angel Maria was? She was the quintessence of his adoration, his love.

And Jack didn't give a damn.

"She was killed. What else could've happened?" he finally responded, masking his impassive rage. "The night…at the party. The host, his name was Vega Rodriguez. He had a rival who was a mafia leader. Rodriguez's contacts, all of his most useful allies gathered in his house. It would've been stupid not to take the opportunity.

"We were talking with a group of people, the discussion being federal forces. Suddenly we heard shouting, gun shots, and then one of the people who worked there came in. He had been shot, but still managed to enter the room and warn everyone that he was here. Being an assembly of criminals from around the world, of course, more than half the room drew their guns, like me. Maria didn't have a gun. Stupid group of people, we were; all of our attention was focused on the entrance, not the windows. Maria was the first to notice, she screamed. They broke through before anybody could question it. Everyone was either hiding, running away, or firing. My mind was only on Maria. I grabbed her arm and ran for it, firing now and then. The place like a battlefield…

"When we were outside, and in a secluded area, I let go. Big mistake. I was just going to call one of my men to bring a vehicle, that was all. If I had just turn around in time, I could've saved her…I-I could've seen him coming and protect her…I c-could've…I could've…" Antony trailed off. He lowered his gaze and hid his eyes with his hands. Jack could see tears streaming down his cheeks, and gathered at his pointed chin.

"Let me fix you a drink…" Jack said quietly. He stood and went to his desk. Behind his desk was a book case. He removed four books, and behind them, a stash of vodka, tequila, and other various alcoholic beverages. He pulled out four bottles and two shot glasses. A minute passed of him filling one glass with an assortment of drinks, then repeating with the other glass.

"…He slit her throat…" Antony murmured to himself.

"What was that?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows, handing his brother a drink. He downed it in one go, while his older brother took smaller sips.

"Nothing. After Maria was killed, I went back to Miami via yacht. I took one from the dock of his palace. Roughly 4500 miles on the sea, and I was alone on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic after seeing Maria die painfully. Do you know what that was like?"

"I couldn't imagine."

"I was going to take a speedboat, but…the yacht had rooms, accurate navigation, and food. When I got back to Miami I treated myself. Splurging my money with luxurious furniture, fancy suits such as this one, and the like. I was lost. I didn't know what to do anymore, really. Nothing made me happy…until one day.

"I was driving from a meeting with someone, and somebody comes up from behind. I didn't like that, so I had one of my men try to shoot them, but it was a bullet-proof car. Can you believe it? I couldn't for the first minute. So, I pushed the driver out of his seat and took over. This was what I missed, this is why I ran out in the first place; for this! To have a gang of people working under me, having been introduced to a whole new world on earth, and for this! The chase, that's why I ran away, I realized. I wanted them to CHASE me, and I wanted to escape. So I did.

"After the chase, I found out the vehicle belonged to a small-time group of adolescents just trying to steal drugs because they thought I had some in my car. Afterwards they were going to sell my car and try to take over my business. Ha! So, I let them go." He killed them all. Even the henchmen. And enjoyed it.

"And that was week two?"

"Week two was Spain. When I reached mid-way in the Atlantic, week three. After I got rid of the kids, week three ended. Week four began when I traveled up to Atlanta, Georgia. Fun place, it was. Apparently there was a gang leader there, too, and he was most definitely not happy to see me at his restaurant. He asks me to sit at his table to we can have a 'friendly' discussion. So he's just sitting there with his harem of sluts surrounding him and does nothing but stare. I'm nonchalant- check my watch, and get up to leave when he actually starts talking to me.

" 'What are you doing in my city' he asks. I tell him I'm passing through- which I am. I planned to go back to Gotham, and I didn't want to take a plane from Miami. According to him, I wasn't allowed to leave. Hell, I wasn't allowed to stay alive. He drew a gun on me. At the same time, I readied mine. Then all of his guys pulled out their guns. He told me to put mine down; can you actually see me putting my gun down because somebody told me too?"

"I can't see you with a gun at all."

"Yeah, well, trust me. I had one the entire time. So I don't put it down, but I let it loose from the handle, only hanging by my thumb…by the trigger. He turns the safety off and then BAM! I kill him. The whores are screaming, standing, and running and the guys are trying to get a good aim on me. I, being a great marksmen, shoot all six of them.

"So, by now, illegal activity is buzzing. Different petty gangs are trying to take over his position now that he's gone. I take his private jet back to Gotham, but…I still have a little energy left. I mean, I stole HIS private jet! That was awesome! I just can't turn myself in yet, now can I? So I head to the Iceberg Lounge."

"Wait a minute, was this the last week? When you got back in Gotham?"

"Yes."

"And…And THE Iceberg Lounge? Ran by the Penguin? Where all of those- those freaks congregate?"

"…" A moment of silence on Antony's part. They weren't freaks, as he so delicately put it. Jack was the freak. He didn't tolerate. He didn't care. He was greedy and didn't think about anyone but himself. He had a fat paycheck, and lived large, so why did he have to care? He was the goddamn mayor of Gotham, and all he did was make it look pretty for the socialites and step all over the lower-class. And he called the Gotham Rogues 'freaks.' They were smart, and they were driven.

And they picked a theme.

The point was, anybody could be like those so-called freaks. Antony could've been. Oh yes, he could have been. He had surely made himself known in the under world of drugs. Not something he was too keen on, but hey, it was something. And it all happened because he had an urge. It all happened because he was pushed to do so; when he ran away.

"Yeah. I went there and had a drink. I asked for the 'Distinctive Amalgamation of Delectable Quintessential Zest.'" Antony chuckled. Jack joined him. That drink was common among the Pardionaire family, the recipe being passed down from generation to generation, but it wasn't universally known. It took a strong immune system to be able to digest it without immediate liver failure.

"Did he actually give it to you?"

"He didn't know what it was!"

"Aha! So what did you do?"

"Being who I am, I went behind the counter and explained to him how to make one!"

"Oh God, you didn't! Antony! Tell me all about it!" Jack laughed.

"Okay. I asked for the drink, and he just gave me this blank stare, you know? So I said, 'You don't know what it is, do you? This is pitiful. Just pitiful. Allow me to show you how to make a proper Distinctive Amalgamation of Delectable Quintessential Zest. I still can't believe that a high profile place such as this, run by a high profile man such as the Penguin, didn't know what that was! The lack of culture in this region of the country is appalling, I got better diversity in Atlanta when I was getting shot at.' At that point I had walked behind the counter and was taking all the drinks from in the area under it. Then I said, 'And when I wasn't, come to think of it. They have great Chinese food there. You know, I think it starts with an H, but they prepare your food right in front of you and all that. Anyways here is what you do-' and I showed him how to do that. And we gathered a crowd! We were getting looks of awe and amazement. And when I drank it, people were so shocked! It was so hilarious!

"I then took my absence, and went back to a hotel. When I was there, I had a moment of revelation; there really wasn't that much to do at the moment. I was just here. Nothing to do. I wasn't that into sleeping at the moment, you know? So I decided to people watch in the lobby. I walked down there, and sat. And watched. And waited. For what, I don't know. But I quickly found out. Suddenly people come in, flashes of cameras, so much talking and the like. They were surrounding a woman and a man. The woman was just your average model. The man…was Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? You encountered Bruce Wayne as he was just going to his hotel?"

"I guess you could say that. He ended up having the paparazzi pulled back, much to my relief. I was still semi-famous, and if any enemies I had left saw me, then that would bring hell down upon me. So, being the brave soldier I am, I walked up to the front desk, where he was going, nonchalantly. I wanted to be up at the desk with him, close. I don't know why, I just wanted to be so nonchalantly close to such a big deal."

"Strange."

"So I went up there and feigned the loss of my room key. And I casually glance at Wayne, looked as if I was sizing him up, and turned away. No biggy. He was nothing compared to people I knew, the person I was. The guy behind the desk asks what room number it was, I gave it to him. And the guy speaks to me! Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire turns to me and says, 'I'm in the next room over. Let me escort you, after all, you are staying in my hotel. I can't be a bad host.' Can you believe it? He's trying to charm me! Of course he wants to impress every living thing with his courtesy. So what do I do? I accept the offer smoothly.

"So we go into the elevator, and we start to talk- his girlfriend is just standing there indifferently. He brings up his business and such, and then he asks about me. My story was this; I was a consultant for a free-lance agency. Classified services. I had flown in from Miami to meet with a client, but he stood me up, so I'm going back home tomorrow morning. My alias was Vincent Twarsead."

"Vincent what?" Jack asked, trying to contain laughter. Antony saw the humor in his fake last name and was on the verge of laughing, too.

"T…Twarsead!" he choked out in confirmation. They both burst into a fit of laughter. It seemed like the moment it began, it ended.

"Whew…anyways…he left me in front of my door and went inside his room, which was diagonal to mine….This is where my story comes to an end… When I was unlocking my room door with the key card, another door was opening. I heard two VERY familiar voices, belonging to a man and a woman. They just so happened to belong to mom and dad. I couldn't help but turn around. They saw me, I saw them. Then it was over. Just like that."

"You were then taken back to Arkham, right?"

"Yes."

"Wow…that is such a…entertaining life story. You could write a book on that, you know." Jack said more-so to himself, mindlessly nodding.

Antony was getting at the end of his rope with his brother. Jack was just pushing it- he called his friends 'criminals', and not people, he called the rogues 'freaks,' he had just seemed to be a snobby person now, he suggested making the best- and worse- month of his life into a publicity stunt, and most importantly, he didn't care about Maria.

"So…why are you holding this speech, Jack?" Antony asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, that! Antony, let me tell you, I've been keeping this secret from everybody…but I want to tell you. At first it will be about taxes, how they will be going up a little, some connections being made overseas to help with our medical areas, congratulating our high school students who are going to Harvard, Yale, and Duke, etcetera… then the real thing happens. You know about the Gotham rogues, right? You know they are incredibly deadly, are always escaping and being put back into Arkham without any signs of improvement?"

"…Yeah…" Antony did not like where this was going.

"They terrorize my people. They murder, torture, and strike terror into the citizens of Gotham, and no action has been taken to stop it. Batman is good and all, he helps post-pone their actions. But…what if the rogues were out of the picture? Batman could concentrate on the petty criminals and rapists and murderers. A step to a brighter future would turn into a leap. We would be on the right track."

"…Jack, what are you proposing?"

"…Execution. Of all the Gotham Rogues."

Everything had gotten quiet. Antony felt like something inside him had shattered. His eyes held no emotion, and he did not display any body language. He blinked only about once a minute. Time flew for Jack, but at this moment, Antony felt like he was spending half an hour staring at his brother.

He couldn't believe it. They were going to die. His brother was going to kill those people. He was going to murder them just so the city looked better. Did he even know what he was doing? Surely he was aware of all the controversy that would bring. Did he even care? Did he care what his people thought? Did he care what his brother thought? Obviously not.

Because Antony was pissed.

"Y-You just can't dispose of them like that!" Antony sputtered.

"I realize many of my voters oppose the idea, but it is for the greater good."

"The greater good of what! For who!"

"Gotham and Gothamites."

"I…no…w-why? Don't answer…I just…can't focus right now. Oh God…" Antony wheezed, clutching his head. Another attack from his contaminated conscious came, and it was stronger than ever. And it told Antony exactly what he needed to do. The Gotham Rogues couldn't die. No, they had to live. Who else knew about this? Nobody, Jack had said. If Jack was gone…Antony wouldn't tell a soul. He now had a mission. The blood they shared meant nothing anymore.

"Are you okay, Antony?"

"Fine. Good night, brother." Antony said, almost mechanically.

He left the room without another word and retreated into his bedroom. He dug around in his suitcase and found what he was looking for; cell phone. This was his special phone, the one that contained all of the 'special' contacts. He looked through the listing and found the number he was looking for. He dialed the number, put the phone to his face and waited for the pick-up.

"…H-Hello?" the man on the line answered.

"Mr. Corvey. Its been too long." Antony said- a layer of malice lacing his undertone.

"Who is this? Is this Louie? No…this is Antony Pardionaire, isn't it?" the man guessed, his voice becoming more comfortable. Antony could since Mr. Corvey was smiling on the other line.

"Correct." he confirmed.

"Tony, my boy, how've you been? Almost everyone you left down here heard about you getting caught- was it true? What's with your life now?"

"It was true. I'm out of Arkham now, I'm with my brother. I need a favor. This needs to be taken care of overnight."

"Lay it on me."

"I need you to locate a sniper for me in Gotham City." he said quietly, with a twinge of shame and guilt, "Not an amateur, either, the real deal. And some hired help, but really…all I need are two workers and a sniper. And that have to be prepared to perform the job with basic instruction."

"Gotham City, eh? Well, there is bound to be someone I can hook you up with. Let me check, you caught me just in time. I was about to head off for the night."

"Hmm. Mr. Corvey, how are my operations coming along down there?"

"Smoothly. What can I say, Miami is a smooth place to be."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, operations are running smoothly because Miami is not the type of place for these things to jack up, you know?"

"…Found anyone yet?"

"Ah…a sniper, yeah. Are you accessible to a fax machined file?"

"No, just read it to me. Hold on, I'm getting pencil and paper." Antony muttered, scavenging the room for writing materials. He finally found sticky notes and a pen. "Okay, got it. Give me the info."

"Name is Mark Wexler. Thirty five years old, 5' 9", 145 pounds. Lives in the Narrows, on a nicer part of it. By day, he's a theology professor at Gotham U. By night, a regular freelance sniper. Ironically, he needs glasses, but that doesn't really effect with his aim, according to people he has worked for."

"What is his number?" Antony placed the numbers down in the 3-4 order as they came to him through the receiver.

"Now what about hired help?"

"I can only locate one guy who isn't already working for someone else. Richard Johnson, former club bouncer. Fired for murder. Twenty seven years old, 6' 4. 239 pounds. He'll do any job that comes his way for a depending price. Does he sound good?"

"Yeah. Number." Antony sighed and scribbled Richard's number down, too.

"Is that all you need, Mr. Pardionaire?"

"Yes. And Mr. Corvey?"

"Hmm?"

"Expect me to return to Miami soon. Probably in the next week or so. If I don't confirm my return, then don't bother preparing for my arrival. Goodbye, Mr. Corvey. Take care of my empire." Antony said before hanging up.

He stared at the numbers. Ink pressed down onto paper. You could see the thin indented line in the middle of the ink, where he directly pressed the pen down. The ink formed numbers, and numbers formed phone connections. All on a pad of yellow. A little girl could be in his place, and those number could not have belonged to a sniper and a petty criminal. They could have belonged to her boyfriend and best friend.

But no. He was a grown man, and he was pulling off a federal crime again.

He dialed the first number.

"Hello?" a voice answered with a heavy British accent.

"Hello. Is this Professor Wexler? Of Gotham University?"

"May I ask who is speaking?"

"Just answer the question, sir. You are in no danger."

"…Yes, this is Professor Wexler. Now who is speaking?"

"My name, for now, will be Tony. I am your new client. I hope you aren't in the middle of something, because I need you at… where is the mayor's speech going to be held?"

"Wayne Recreational Park. You want me to be there?"

"Yes. What time is it?"

"…10:57."

"Really? Wow, time flies. I want you at Wayne Recreational Park at midnight sharp. I know where your expertise lies, Professor. Fifty grand up front, seventy-five after the job is done."

"Who is this?"

"I told you, it's Tony until I can trust you. So Mark, be there at midnight. Wherever you want to be, just be there."

"Well, that is a stupid move."

"What?"

"That is stupid. Of course people are going to be there, making sure nobody plants a bomb or something."

"Good point…is there a building in the vicinity of the park?"

"Yes. Meet there?"

"Yes. On the top floor."

"I'll be there. Armed."

And then the theology sniper hung up. Antony chuckled, he liked this guy. He might fully recruit him. He dialed the next number.

"Talk." a deep voice snarled.

"Watch your tone, Mr. Johnson. I'm your recruiter. Meet me at the top floor of the building next to Wayne Recreational Park at midnight sharp. Fifty grand up front."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"For now, you can call me Tony. Like I said; Watch. Your. Tone." And then Antony hung up on him.

He hoped they showed up. He glanced at his watch, which he had only noticed he had on a couple of minutes ago. It was 11:12. He rubbed the area around his eyes and mentally debated whether he should continue with his plan or not…he had to, he decided. He dug around I his suitcase and found his check book and a spare key to the car that they were driven in. He wrote out two checks to the gentlemen, and slipped them neatly in his pocket. He stuck everything back into place, making sure to hide his special phone. He exited the room. He tip-toed through the hall and down the stairs. Once there, he wasted no time in leaving the mansion. Two steps out, and he stopped. A thought crossed his mind. He turned around and searched the foyer and parlor for writing material and tape. He had finally found it and wrote the following;

'ANTONY PARDIONAIRE HAS GONE OUT. DON'T LOCK HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE. HE'LL BE BACK AROUND 1.'

He taped it on one of the double-doors and exited for the second time. He quickly located the car they arrived in and drove off.

It did take a while to get there, since he hadn't been around here in a while. The Wayne Recreational Park was a new feature. He parked in the parking lot of the only building within the vicinity of 3 miles. There was one vehicle there. He checked his watch, it read 11: 57. He swore and hurried to the side of the building. He knew full well that the doors would probably be locked, and there had to be a security guard. He kept jogging around until he found what he was looking for; a fire escape. There were locked gates, sure, but they held not a chance against Antony's training as a bodyguard. He easily maneuvered up the stairs, ducking, jumping, and twisting about to avoid falling.

Eventually he made it to the roof. It was a rigorous climb, considering he was out of practice. He stumbled upon the surface and welcomed the cold breeze.

"Tony." a British voice said.

"Yes, Mr. Wexler?"

"The door was unlocked. I had already taken care of the night guards."

"…I know that. I was just…practicing."

"Practicing? Highly unlikely. Highly amusing. What is it you wished to discuss, Tony?"

"Your job. You are going to shoot the mayor of Gotham City." Antony grinned at Mark when his eyes widened.

"Bloody hell, what put that ridiculous thought in your head? Are you mad?"

"No. You see, I forgot to give you my real name. It's Antony. Pardionaire."

"You? You're the mayor's brother? The one that went missing for a month and went to Arkham? You're him?"

"Yes. I am," Antony said menacingly, placing a finger on his forehead, "and you are going to shoot him right between the eyes."

"Why?" Wexler asked, batting Antony's hand away.

"Because at his speech tomorrow, he is going to do something terrible. He told me. He will allow a selfish action to take place. Something that will undoubtedly reveal to you the horrible man he is. If he is taken care of, no matter how much of a good leader he was, this city will get better. He's not just. He will allow the unthinkable to happen."

"What will he do?"

"I…" Antony considered telling him…but what if he was one of those who wanted the rogues to die? He couldn't…until it was too late. Yeah, he'd tell him afterward. "…can't tell you. Not yet. Just trust me."

"You can't trust anybody with power." Mark quoted.

"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them." Antony countered.

"Hey! Which one of yous guys is Tony?" a deep voice barked. Mark And Antony turned around to see the large figure of Richard Johnson jogging towards them.

"I am. This is your co-worker, who you will call… Nigel. Nigel, this is Richard. He will be with me when this operation goes down."

"So what, am I being recruited? And why does he get a fake name and you use my real one? Who are you two?"

"I am Tony. He is Nigel. I am your recruiter, and he is one of my employees. He is a sniper. He is going to kill the target, and you are going to pretend you are a security guard and run to his side. If he is still alive, which I doubt, you will finish the job. You will help Nigel set up his equipment, you will help me with whatever I need on a second's notice."

"…And the name thing?"

"Because if you found out who he really was, you would probably kill him."

"But he knows my name!"

"I pick favorites. Nigel here is British and smart. Don't comment on my previous sentence. Now, like I said, fifty thou up front for both of you…we will get to that once I plan this out for you and you agree to do it."

"Sounds fair. Cash?" Mark asked.

"No. Checks."

"Tony, we live in the 21st century. A check? Really?"

"Don't want the money? Fine. Then leave. If you do want it, and the thrill of the kill, then I suggest neither of you doubt how I handle my money. It isn't traced back to me, it's traced back from my company in Miami."

Mark scowled at this and leaned back on the side of the building.

"Now…you, Nigel. See the stage? He is going to be smack dab in the center, got it? Of course you do, you're not a moron. He is going to congratulate some high school kids from earning scholarships to Ivy-League schools, I think. You will be able to know when to kill him because he is going to act like he is going to say something big. It's the main event."

"Can somebody fill me in, here? What am I, chopped liver?"

"We're killing the mayor, you moron." Mark hissed.

"Hey! Don't call me a fucking moron, you ain't got no right, I'm as smart as you, and at least I'm not no toothpick with glasses!"

"If you guys don't stop fighting, I'll hurt you. Badly. You won't be able to walk for a month." Antony murmured, studying the park's layout.

"…So we're lynching the mayor, huh? Why?"

"Ugh…" Antony groaned, face palming. "Because if we don't, he will do something that everyone but he will regret. The guy's a selfish free-loader. Trust me, if he doesn't die…then this town will sink into more anarchy."

"Isn't that what we guys go for?" Richard inquired, scratching the top of his head.

"Not this kind. If you are all for anarchy, then you're an idiot." Antony sighed, obviously aggravated. "So the mayor is going to be dead. Nigel, you shoot him from up here, when he's about to make that big speech. I'll tell you what he's planning then. I'm going to need you to call me, I'll walk you through it. Richard, you're going to stay with me behind the curtain. As a security guard. You will be there before the mayor and I get there, and I'll stay with you back stage. Understand?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now…here are your checks…" Antony yawned, pulling out the worthy slips of paper. He handed them to each and stretched.

"When do I arrive?" Mark asked.

"As early as possible. Richard, I'll leave you with my final word. I don't care how you get the security outfit, just do. Or I'll kill you. This needs to happen." Antony growled, leaving through the door leading up to the roof.

He soon left the building, drove off, and soothed himself with the promise that the Gotham rogues would remain relatively safe. He turned on the radio and flipped through the channels till he found some music.

That music struck a feeling of adrenaline and discomfort. His breathing quickened to keep up with the beating of the percussion. He dipped his head down a bit, staring at the road emotionlessly. A small smile crept up on his face as the rhythm became scattered, shattering the pattern. The strings, mainly viola and cello, began to create a menacing technical sound, which caused his brain to go numb.

He visioned himself; he was standing off to the side of the stage, watching his brother give the speech of a lifetime. He had a Bluetooth headset sticking on his ear, and he was talking ever-so-quietly to Mark.

'He's starting…remember when I said I would tell you what he was going to do?'

'Yes. Tell me.'

'…He was going to execute the Gotham Rog-'

BANG

And then Jack would crumple to the ground, dead. Before Antony could even finish his sentence. Richard ran out to the body and felt for a pulse. He found none, and amidst the screams, Antony ran to his parents to see if they were okay- a false flag of family concern- and then he ran to his brother. Fake tears sprung in his eyes, but it was mixed with real guilt.

He took himself out of the daydreaming and turned off the music. He had been driving for a while, and he found himself in the driveway of Antony's house. The lights were off when he entered. Relief flooded him when he found the door unlocked. He quietly removed the sign he placed before, and locked the door. He tiptoed amongst the stairs, slipped down the hall, past his brother's room, and into his. He quietly changed into night clothes and slipped under the cold sheets.

And it seemed too short of a deep slumber when sunlight broke through the curtain, somehow making it right over his eyes. He groaned tiredly and prepped for the big day. This big day.

He could practically hear the gun shots now.

"Antony!" he heard his mother call from floors below.

He snarled at his reflection at her voice. It reminded him of a bat on autotune.

"Come down for breakfast, we don't want to be late!"

He bit his tongue, not wanting to accidentally let something rude spill. All of that would wait until she was dead., in a matter of…thirty years? Possibly twenty with the high levels of air pollution. He didn't want to wait that long. He wanted to be back in Miami or Spain.

He suddenly felt as though everything was drifting, and he felt numb. He slipped a knife underneath his blazer and went downstairs…more like stumbled precariously. He made his way to the dining hall and sat next to his parents. Jack was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Jack?"

"He's adding the final touches to his speech."

"I didn't ask what he was doing, mother, but where he is."

She glared at her younger son. "His room. His car, his office, the living room, how should I know?"

"Marissa…" the father warned.

She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, as if taking a doctor's advice to count to ten and breathe slowly to alleviate anger. That was how she normally was when Antony was around.

"Well, when are we going?" Antony practically yelled.

"…You know what? Now. Let's just go right now, if that's what you want. Anything for you. I give anything for you, to you. You know it. You know I would give you anything…" she began to choke up, and tears were starting to stream down her cheek, leaving a trail of her original skin color amidst the foundation color. "…in this whole God-forsaken world, Antony." she struggled to say.

"…Go wait in the car." James said indifferently, turning in his seat to comfort his wife. Antony rolled his eyes, snatched up his fedora he left on a seat the previous night, and stomped out of the mansion like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

He was going to take the driver's seat, but there was already a chauffer waiting there. He was a young man, probably about twenty years of age. Black hair slicked back under a hat. A neat black suit. A big grin. Antony tapped on the glass of his window, and the boy stepped out.

"Walk with me. Talk with me." Antony murmured.

"But sir, we'll be leaving momentarily."

"No. We won't. The mother is throwing a fit again."

"Well…we shouldn't leave the vicinity of this vehicle, I'll get reprimanded, sir."

"Fine. We'll just stand right here…why does this vehicle need a trunk? There are four others just like this. They all have trunks. What is the point of the trunk?" Antony asked conspicuously.

"Uhh…suitcases, sir?"

"Really? What is your name?

"Geoffrey."

"Geoffrey, let us see if there are suitcases in this trunk." Antony said, coming off as playful. Geoffrey smiled and unlocked the trunk. The back flew open revealing lots of unused space. Antony pouted.

"No suitcases, sir. Sorry to disappoint you." he chuckled.

"We can put something in there that ways about the same as suitcases."

"What would that be, sir?"

Antony laid his hand on Geoffrey's shoulder as they both leaned in. His other hand reached into his blazer…

"How much do five full suitcases weigh? About 130 pounds?"

"Approximately, sir."

"Hmmm…" he tuned off, grasping hold of the object he was reaching for. "Ugh, phone call." Antony shook his head and pulled out the item. He brought it up to Geoffrey's face.

"My God, that's a…a knife!" he realized. Before he could back up, Antony ran the blade across his throat, pushed him into the trunk, and dropped the knife in along with Geoffrey. He snatched the keys and locked the trunk, all in one fluid motion.

He twirled the keys around his right index finger and whistled merrily as he took his place as driver. And just on cue, Marissa was escorted out of the house by James, and followed by Jack. When Antony laid eyes on the trio of kin, he took his place behind the steering wheel and started the vehicle.

"Antony! Have you seen the chauffer?" Jack asked, taking his seat in the back with his parents.

"I can't say I have…" Antony replied with a cool demeanor.

"Oh, Geoffrey is so fired…" Jack muttered, situating himself. "Do you know where we're going and how to get there?"

"Yes, I do." Antony said through gritted teeth. The sniffles of his mom were pushing him passed his anger levels.

"Then let's go, we're going to be late!" Jack said in a reasonably firm tone.

In response, Antony spun out of the driveway like he was on Fast and Furious. His foot slammed on the gas pedal and the car jerked forward, going dangerously fast. Well, faster than anyone else in the car had driven before.

"Antony!" James exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Hmm?"

"S-Slow down!"

"If I do, we're going to be late. Can't be late. The mayor and his family must always be punctual. Especially Jack and I. We've been in this point before, am I right Jack?"

"A…Antony…slow down."

"We're almost there…" Antony said, leaning forward into the steering wheel. He sped up.

"You're going to get us killed!" Marissa shrieked.

"Shut UP!" he screamed, making a sharp, dramatic left turn. Cars had been oncoming, the lights were red, car horns blarred, the car tipped, but he made it into the entrance of the location. He slowed down, everyone was quiet. He pulled into a reserved spot.

It was very crowded. The stage was a mess of interns and people adding the finishing touches, and security. He could make out the bulky frame of Richard. His eyes darted to the ceiling of the next building over. A small dot was his confirmation. He exited the vehicle and put on a pair on sunglasses.

"WHAT was that?" Jack yelled, flinging himself from the vehicle. His hands made their way to the collar of his button up.

"Get your hands off me." Antony said in a light, but crazy voice.

"You could've gotten us killed, you moron! This isn't Miami, Antony, this isn't Spain, or Atlanta, or any other place you've been to in that GOD FORSAKEN MONTH! This is Gotham! MY Gotham!" Jack shouted, punching Antony in the gut. He doubled over.

"…Mom. Dad. Come on. Let me get you situated on stage." Jack said, helping his mother out of the car. She nor James spared their younger son a look.

Antony clutched his gut and slid to the ground, feeling a wave of nausea coming over him. Once Jack, Marissa, and James were escorted by security to their positions, Richard went over to Antony.

"What do we do now?"

"…I'm calling Nigel." Antony said, pulling out a Bluetooth headset and placing it on. He dialed the number, and after the first ring, heard the British voice.

"What do you want? I'm busy up here."

"Just making sure…we are not to lose touch until this is over. Understand?"

"Yes. It's about to go on. Damnit, it is too late for you to go one stage. Go!" he demanded. Antony grinned and broke into a sprint towards the stage. Richard followed close behind. When they reached the stage, Antony stopped right behind where the curtain stopped. Marissa and James were sitting on the stage, admiring their better son as he discussed tax increase.

The speech dragged on and on until Antony was about to pull his hair out.

"When is this guy going to do it? I don't have all day!" Mark hissed.

"Yes, you do, Nigel! Because I paid you! If you want the rest of the money, you do this!" Antony growled.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen…there is something I think I should share with you now. The reason I called this event." Jack said, a smile gleaming at his pathetic citizens.

"Remember I would tell you when it was time?"

"Yes."

"He's going to execute them. The Gotham Rogues. Kill him, now!"

"…I…w-what?"

"DO IT!"

"…No…I won't."

"…Richard. Richard, shoot him. Shoot Nigel. He's right there, see him? Kill him. Now."

"No. I heard what you said. I'm not doing it." Richard said, suddenly pale.

Antony began to hyperventilate. He felt nauseated again.

"I don't care. Kill Nigel, now!" he yelled.

"Why?"

"Because I said so, and his paycheck will go to you if you do it!"

This was enough for Richard. He raised his AK47, aimed…and was shot. By Nigel. Antony ducked and hid. Richard fell back, blood from the bullet hole in his head leaking. Antony grabbed Richard's gun.

"I see what you're trying to do. When Richard's body is discovered, you'll be to blame. Isn't that funny?" Mark chuckled.

"Ladies and Gentlemen…we all know of the Batman. The vigilante has been doing his best to keep our streets safe."

"Mark. You have no idea what kind of hell will arise with the Gotham Rogues gone. They are a part of this ecosystem."

"Goodbye, Antony Parionaire." and with that, he hung up.

Antony turned fiercely to see Mark standing on the edge of the building, everything packed up. His heart beat faster, and he raised his gun with a trembling hand and fired. It didn't hit him.

But it scared him enough to fall off the edge of the building.

He didn't know what to do now. Nobody heard the gunfire, amazingly enough.

"Ladies…and Gentlemen…I present the idea…"

"N…NO!" he shrieked, stumbling out onto stage. He fired repeatedly at his brother, even after he fell to the ground. Cries, screams, yells, everything came from the audience. Security rushed onto stage and attempted to get the gun from him. The repeated firing, bullets going over and over again, shells flying everywhere. Before the cops could wrestle the gun out of his grasp, he turned and aimed at his parents.

Everyone.

Was.

Gone.

His sight faded to black as he realized he had no more family. Then the sight came back as he realized he saved a city today. They should've been honoring him. But no. The gun was pried from his hands, and he was forced onto the ground, taken into handcuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law!" and anything after that disappeared form his mind. He couldn't hear anything anymore, except his own screams of utter shock and terror, and his laughs of triumph.

And only an hour later, he was sitting in a cell.

With the very people he saved.


End file.
